


Fish for Supper

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo attempts to impress Thorin by catching fish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish for Supper

Bilbo sighed, stretching languorously. He’d been in the saddle so long that he was starting to lose feeling in his legs, and when they’d called for a halt that evening, he’d wandered off slightly to find a spot to stretch out. To his pleasant surprise, there was a quiet little brook within shouting distance of the camp, and he’d happily rolled up his trousers and sat on the grassy bank. 

Dangling his furry feet in the clear water, he leaned back on his elbows and savored the last of the day’s sunlight on his face. They would be nearing Mirkwood soon, and Bilbo did not relish the thought of being so far away from the gently rolling hills and pastures of the Shire. From what Beorn had said, Mirkwood was a dank and terrifying place, rife with danger and heavy with malice, filled with wild beasts that would be eager to gnaw on his bones. 

Shuddering, Bilbo reached into his pocket, pulling out his short travelling pipe and ever-lighter bag of pipe-weed. Using his flint kit, he lit the pipe and contentedly puffed smoke rings across the river, trying to push the thought of danger from his mind.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across his face, and Bilbo flinched, his hand flitting to Sting’s hilt. A low chuckle rumbled through the air as Thorin Oakenshield stared down at him, arms folded.

“If you’re so easy to sneak up on, perhaps we should look for another burglar, hmm?” He commented, eyes sparkling with a rare hint of mirth. Bilbo sighed, relieved but exasperated, and glared up at the dwarf.

“Well maybe if your burglar was somewhere that required actual burgling, then he would be more careful,” he replied testily, fingering the pocket where the ring lay. 

“Forgive me, Master Hobbit,” replied Thorin, sitting down carefully next to Bilbo, leaving space between them. “It was not my intent to offend.”

“Apology accepted,” Bilbo replied, somewhat stiffer than he intended. Thorin busied himself with removing his boots, studiously unwrapping the leather bindings. Their silence hung awkwardly in the evening, making Bilbo shift uncomfortably. What could he do to relieve the tension? He glanced around, looking for anything to bring up in conversation. He mentally cursed as he stared down at his feet, watching the water flow by, the silver sides of a fish flashing by-

That was it! Bilbo sprang to his feet, loosening his necktie and removing his jacket. He patted the coat pocket once more, just to make sure of the ring’s location, then rolled his trousers up to his thighs.

“Fish!” He exclaimed to a perplexed Thorin, wading into the stream. If he could catch a fish, he would not only have the gratitude of the entire company, but might even impress the dwarf.

“How do you propose to catch a fish, when you have no line?” Asked Thorin idly, scooting closer to the edge of the bank. He had faith in the little hobbit, but he had never seen anybody fish in this manner before. Then again, Bilbo Baggins had proved himself to be full of surprises, so he continued to watch as Bilbo stooped close to the water.

“I used to catch fish like this as a boy,” the hobbit replied quietly, lowering his hands into the brook. “I never liked using the hooks and such, it seemed so...cruel.” Thorin nodded understandingly. Bilbo had once stopped the entire company so that he could pick up a wounded sparrow, and had gently carried it to Gandalf. Thorin thought he’d seen a hint of tears in his eyes as Bilbo had begged the wizard to heal it, and something in his heart had clenched to see the innocence and compassion the brave little hobbit still carried, despite everything that he had seen so far.

Bilbo’s arms flashed through the water, and he triumphantly pulled a wriggling trout from the brook. Wading back toward the bank, he placed the fish on a stone, and grimacing, drove Sting through its skull. The fish flopped weakly for a few seconds, then stilled. Thorin raised his eyebrows, impressed, as Bilbo submerged his hands once more. The brook was filled with fish, and before long, five trout were laid next to each other on the grass next to Thorin.

Suddenly, Bilbo spied a large salmon lazily making its way towards him. If he could catch that, Bombur would be able to make a proper feast, he thought. Licking his lips, he stealthily crept towards the fish, already dreaming of the lemon and pepper that would accompany the sauteed salmon he’d be devouring-

Bilbo’s foot slipped on a smooth stone, and with a yelp, he fell backwards into the brook. He sat up, sputtering indignantly and wiping water out of his eyes. The salmon’s scales flashed tauntingly as it sped down the river, never to be seen again. Thorin chuckled at Bilbo's irritated scowl, then threw his head back and roared with laughter as Bilbo glared at him. However, as he stamped his feet in laughter, the bank Thorin was seated on crumbled, and unceremoniously dumped him in the brook next to Bilbo.

Thorin broke the surface with a shout, cursing eloquently in Khuzdul as Bilbo snorted with laughter. He glared at the hobbit, water coursing down his beard.

"I suppose you think this is funny?" He growled. Bilbo nodded, unable to speak for his giggling. Despite himself, Thorin's mouth twisted into a smile, and he quickly turned away so that Bilbo could not see. Still grumbling, he hoisted himself back up onto the bank, nearly falling in again, much to Bilbo's glee. Turning around, he stuck out a hand. 

"Come, Bilbo," he said, "this is plenty enough fish for today, the others will be pleased." However, Bilbo was still splashing through the water, sticking his hands below the surface.

"My pipe!" he cried. "It must have fallen out of my pocket!" He stuck his head under the water, searching desperately. Thorin sighed, then waded back in and hauled a protesting Bilbo out by his shirt. He rummaged around in his belt, then held his hands out to Bilbo.

"Here," he said, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "You can have this." In his hand was a small pipe, finely carved with Dwarven runes around the bowl.

"I can't take this," replied Bilbo, flabbergasted. "That's yours, I mean, I'm sure it has some sentimental value, and, er-"

He was cut off as Thorin folded Bilbo's fingers around the pipe, then took them both in his own larger hands. "You saved my life, before," he said gently. "This is the least I can offer as a token of my gratitude." His hands were still completely enveloping the hobbit's, warm after the cold of the river. Bilbo looked searchingly into Thorin's eyes, waiting for some sort of social cue to explain what he should do.

"Thank you," he muttered, then before Thorin could react, he quickly leaned up and kissed Thorin square on the mouth. Thorin's eyes widened with shock, but he eventually relaxed and brought a hand up to Bilbo's damp curls. However, at the touch, Bilbo pulled away, face red. He glanced at his feet guiltily, and without another word, turned and sprinted away, Thorin's pipe clutched to his chest.

As he watched the hobbit's quickly retreating figure, Thorin shook his head. Indeed, he thought, Bilbo Baggins was always full of surprises.


End file.
